Cold Hound and No Fish

For most of last week, Art and I talked about heading up the shore and working our way down toward the French River.

Last week, the wife and I picked up a hound from a family in Duluth.  Those who do not know us, my wife and I work with a basset rescue out of Wisconsin.  This particular hound was a bit much for the family and they thought it would be better in a different house.  On Wednesday, the wife and I headed down to St. Paul - I had a meeting in Rochester on Thursday and being in St. Paul was closer than being in Proctor.  Art stayed at our house and tended the hounds - including the latest guest, Sid.  Sid is not your typical basset hound.  He has a couple traits like a basset, but otherwise, he looks like a treeing walker coonhound. 

Anyway, Sid needed to get out and Art likes Sid - so, along with our camera gear and fishing gear, we piled the extra tall hound named Sid into the truck and headed up the shore to the marina near Silver Bay and Taconite Harbor.

The marina was empty of boats and the water was covered with a layer of clear and cracked ice.  The wind was blowing and waves were crashing - the temperature was in the single digits.  Our southern-style hound was not digging the cold - even with a sweater on.  After walking around the marina and taking some fantastic photos, we put the ice-hound back into the truck to warm up and we headed south to Beaver Bay. 

Next to the Highway 61 bridge over the Beaver River in Beaver Bay, MN, there is a trail on private property with a sign that gives you the green light to use the trail.  We unpacked the hound and head down the trail to the bay.  The water was choppy but the location looked promising.  The bay appears relatively deep and comes up quickly as it comes into shore.  We walked around the slice of land that has Beaver Bay on the eastern side and the Beaver River and swamp on the western side - we headed back up to the truck to get the fishing gear.

With rods rigged up and out in the bay, we set to task of keeping Sid warm.  He had a sweater and a traveling harness on, but he remained cold when not moving.  We put a blank on him, but that did not help either.  Art tried to walk him back up to the truck, but he did not like being away from me.  After a short bit, I walked him back up to the truck and warmed him up.

Fifteen minutes or so of warming up, Sid was ready to head back to the beach.  Art was having lunch when we got back down.  The temperature was also dropping at this point as the wind was picking up.  Sid started to shiver shortly there after. 

Casting out and reeling in I noticed something: ice.  It was forming on my line and causing anything and everything that was churned into the water to cling to my line.  It was time to finish lunch back at the truck.

We packed up - with gear and hound in tow, we went back to the truck.  Art had taken a chill while I was back at the truck with Sid and he was quite happy to get back into the warmth.   Hot coffee and sandwiches have not tasted quite that good in a long time.

We started back south and decided to look at the Split Rock River.  I managed to snapped a lot of good photos here and all was going well until Sid had the brilliant idea of trying to jump the river.  At its narrowest point, the river was four feet across.  As if in slow motion, I watched Sid prep to jump - he was at the end of his tracking lead.  Once, twice, three times he looked as if he was going to jump.  On the fourth try, he sprung and the lead went even tighter.  With a cartoon like fall with gravity, he dropped squarely into the river.  We headed back to the truck with our wet, cold hound - he decided he had to go back home and get warm.  The Encampment, the French and the Lester flew by as we headed back to the Proctor to drop Sid off.

With Sid at the house, we headed back up to the French.  The usual crew was there, including our often intoxicated "friend," "Dan."  We headed down the shore and away from the rest of the crew.  To sum things up, we did not get any fish.  I do not think anyone caught anything at the French.  We did, however, manage to take some of the day's best photos.